


At Rest (Five Miles Behind the Front)

by Mytay



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: And Lance Needing Reassurance, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Keith (Voltron) is Bad at Feelings, Mostly About Shiro Needing Rest, Post Season 3, Pre-Relationship, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-25
Updated: 2017-09-25
Packaged: 2019-01-05 02:40:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12181308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mytay/pseuds/Mytay
Summary: Shiro is no longer the Black Paladin. He is no longer the commander of Team Voltron. He is a soldier without a purpose and a leader without a legion at his back.Lance is a seventh wheel. He is not fit to be a leader, and perhaps not even fit to be a Paladin.Or, in which two Paladins of Voltron learn their true worth, and finally, there is well-earned rest.





	At Rest (Five Miles Behind the Front)

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from the first line of the novel _All Quiet on the Western Front_ , by Erich Maria Remarque.
> 
> Fair warning that the Keith/Lance here is only hinted at, and in its earliest stages — generally, this is a story about giving Shiro and Lance the support and reassurance they so rightfully deserve :D
> 
> I had a lot of season three feels. I’ve been slowly adding to this a little at a time to finally exorcise the last of these feels. I wanted to give Shiro the rest and relaxation he truly deserves. And Lance needs to know he’s important. This isn’t too deep or dark — mostly just me reaching into the screen to cuddle these two in a metaphorical sense because they need all the cuddles. 
> 
> **Warning:** For many conversations. So much talking because I live for people _actually communicating_. Apologies if that's not what you're interested in :)

  

******

Shiro couldn’t look away from the man in the cryo-pod, but he also desperately wanted to _not_ be seeing this.

 

He’d been dehumanized in too many ways by the Galra Empire. Shiro had been reduced to a prison number designation, to _entertainment,_ to some kind of twisted, magical science experiment … But to see a reflection of his own flesh (a man that had been made based on his DNA, whom they had given a metal arm and a scar and _his memories_ ), here on the Castle, in  _his home,_ meant to _replace him …_

 

Replace him, and on secret command, _capture or murder_ _Shiro’s Voltron family_ …

 

Shiro _couldn’t_ look away even though every self-preservation instinct demanded that he close eyes and erase this from his mind. The Galra Empire had made him forget so many of those days while he lived under their evil watch — why couldn’t this be one of them?

 

“He asked us to kill him,” Allura said quietly.

 

Shiro turned to her, grateful beyond measure to have the spell broken, to have something better to focus on, even though those words were horrifying.

 

“I thought he’d gone completely traitor?” he asked, clearing his throat when his voice cracked.

 

“He did,” Lance confirmed, staring at the cryo-pod nearly as intently as Shiro had been. “But for a few seconds, when Keith got him hard in the head, he … he came around, asked us to _end it._ So he couldn’t hurt us.” Lance rubbed at a healing bruise on his neck. “It … he’s really like you, Shiro. We couldn’t do it.”

 

Keith crossed his arms, his gloved hands gripping his biceps tightly enough to scrunch up his red jacket. He said nothing, had said very little since Matt and Shiro had come aboard the Castle earlier today. Matt had been bleeding heavily from a series of stab wounds to his shoulder, and one arm had definitely been broken; Shiro should’ve stayed with him, but he couldn’t just sit in the medical wing,  _knowing_ what was waiting for him down here …

 

Hunk spoke up, as if reading Shiro’s mind, “Uh, slightly better topic of conversation — Matt’s doing pretty well. Coran said that he’ll be out of his pod in no time. Pidge is going to camp out in the healing wing until then, but yeah. Good news.”

 

“Thanks, Hunk.” Shiro smiled at him, though he couldn’t keep it up for long.

 

“We need to get you to the Black Lion,” Keith said abruptly. “To make sure.”

 

Lance sighed. Shiro blinked, confused. “Make sure of —”

 

“That you’re not another damn clone,” Keith bit out. “ _He_ couldn’t operate the Black Lion. So if you can get in there and connect with him, then …”

 

“Keith,” Lance interrupted, his eyebrows raised in weary incredulity, “if you could just let _this_ Shiro chill for like, _one night,_ I think —”

 

“Better we know _now,_ ” Keith insisted, cutting Lance with a sharp glare from beneath his black mop of hair, “than when there’s a knife in our backs. _Literally._ ”

 

Lance flinched hard at that, his eyes darkening, but then he threw both hands up in the air, surrendering. “Geez, fine, whatever you say. Just trying for a little kindness — they gave Kuron Shiro a few months before unleashing him on us, so I thought we’d be safe for a solid night’s sleep. My bad.”

 

Keith barely remained long enough for Lance to finish talking before he was whipping around and stomping out of the cryo-chamber wing.

 

Everyone was silent for a long, awkward moment, and then Lance gave another great sigh, facing Shiro with a sad little half-smile on his face. “Keith was the last one. He refused to believe it. Pidge was the first — she dug up the information on Operation Kuron by _accident_ when we were raiding a base we thought was Lotor’s —”

 

“I was the next to believe her, followed by Coran and Hunk,” Allura continued, worrying her lower lip. “It didn’t take too much convincing, as Kuron Shiro didn’t quite have the same warmth as you, for all that he said and did most of the right things.”

 

“I was the second last hold-out,” Lance confessed. “Keith … didn’t react well when Pidge tried to convince him, convince us, and I was on his side but then, Kuron Shiro, he made some pretty rough calls, overrode Keith’s leadership in a way you would never. I mean, the calls were _right,_ but the _way_ he did it … I don’t know, I just had a bad feeling.”

 

“The trigger words came through just as we were tracking down the sect of Galra that had initiated Operation Kuron,” Allura said, shivering. “Keith, he tried to _help_ that Shiro, while we were attempting to capture him …”

 

“And then _that_ Shiro” — Lance nodded at the cryo-pod — “put a sword in Keith’s back. It was … pretty bad.”

 

“We all ganged up on him, but even then, it was hard to take him down — but like Allura said, when he was hurting, he came out of it for a bit, and begged us to finish him.” Hunk shuddered. “Pidge suggested the cryo-pod. Maybe we can fix him, y’know? Get those trigger words out of his head. The Galra kinda did a good job making him like you, so he's not a bad person, not really?" Hunk tripped over his words as he hastened to add, "But, uh, yeah, we're not unfreezing Kuron Shiro until there's a foolproof way to keep him from going ham.”

 

“And all this happened …” Shiro trailed off.

 

“Roughly six quintants ago, so less than one of your weeks,” Allura answered, accompanied by a weak, dry laugh when he winced. “Yes, not nearly long enough for us to be confronting _another_ Shiro, I’m afraid.”

 

“I’m gonna head over to the Black Lion hangar,” Lance said, stretching up onto his toes with his arms high over his head. “Going to make sure our current leader isn’t setting any booby traps or anything.”

 

Shiro watched Lance go, and for the sake of not dealing with all the information that had just been unloaded onto him (way _, way_ too much to process right now), he mused out loud, “Huh. That’s new. Since when does Lance act as support for Keith?”

 

“Since they’re practically knight and squire now,” Hunk said promptly. “Or superhero plus faithful sidekick? But one that, like, insults the superhero and tries to provoke him into spitball contests. Yeah, kinda like that.”

 

With the man in the cryo-pod still in his peripheral vision, Shiro decided that he was done for the day ( _for the next month, year_ ). Today, Galra had attacked him while he'd been acting as member of a rebel force, which had Matt as commander of one of their factions. Matt had been grievously injured, and they’d been rescued from certain death by the team Shiro thought he’d never see again. Upon arriving on the Castle, no one had been overly happy to see him despite the several months of time between them — especially Keith, who had frozen and gone pale as a sheet.

 

When Coran had explained the _imposter_ to Shiro, he’d split off from watching Matt and Pidge reuniting in the healing wing. He had to go straight down here to see this doppelganger himself.

 

And now, now he was going to see his Lion, give Keith the confirmation he needed, and then _sleep for at least thirty vargas straight._

“I’m heading to the hangar,” Shiro informed them as they all walked out. “Then I think I’ll … go to my room.”

 

“Of course!” Allura said brightly. “We should all head to bed early today. It’s been … trying for everyone.”

 

Shiro didn’t comment on that further, nor did he comment on the fact that Allura had the Blue bayard with her, her expression warm but her eyes calculating as they watched him.

 

Yes, better get his Lion to ease everyone’s concerns and then crash for the foreseeable future.

 

Keith and Lance were standing by one of Black’s paws when Shiro walked in. He didn’t stop for more than a couple of seconds, smiling at Lance as he passed, and telling Keith, “Wait here.”

 

He could feel Keith bristling at that, but saw, from the corner of his eye, Lance putting a staying hand on Keith’s shoulder. Shiro climbed into his Lion, and the _warmth, the affection, the relief,_ swarmed him instantly.

 

But when he sat in his pilot’s chair, comfortable and _comforted,_ Black only gave a soft purr. The Lion came on, standing up straighter, eyes lit up — Shiro could see Allura applauding happily from the viewscreen, Lance’s huge grin, and Hunk pumping a fist into the air. But no great roar or surge of power followed. Shiro frowned, titling his head in question, and his Lion gently suggested something, no words, just a feeling.

 

“Keith?” Shiro said, his frown easing into a soft, understanding smile. _Ah, I hear you._ He pushed a button to broadcast out into the hanger. “Keith, get in here, buddy.”

 

Lance gave Keith a light push, and Keith made his way towards Shiro, inside the cockpit a minute later. Shiro stood up, indicating that Keith take a seat. Keith stared at him, less suspicious now, more confused, and did so. Black flowed into _both_ their minds, and for a few seconds, _all three of them were connected._ Shiro felt as though his entire nervous system was set alight, almost painfully intense, but the Black Lion ended the heavy connection instantly once everything important had been communicated.

 

“I … I’m still Black Paladin?” Keith sounded … not exactly happy, but not quite angry or reluctant either. “You need … Black wants you to rest.”

 

“Yeah, he doesn’t think I’m ready to be a Paladin again,” Shiro said with a sheepish smile. “Gonna take a bit of a vacation, let you keep steering Voltron. Apparently you’ve been doing a really good job. Black is proud of you. And so am I.”

 

A different kind of pain (the guilt-ridden kind) swept over Shiro as he admitted that he couldn’t do this right now. But Black saw deeper into him than he was willing to look himself. He had the utmost trust in his Lion, so if the Black Lion determined that he was too worn down to lead, to be a Paladin … then Shiro would let Keith keep doing what Shiro had _known_ Keith could eventually excel at — commanding Voltron.

 

Even if Shiro now had no idea what this meant for himself.

 

“I … I didn’t … I was _terrible_ for the first while,” Keith blurted out suddenly. “I almost got everyone _killed,_ and if Lance hadn’t … If everyone hadn’t …”

 

“Hey, Keith, you weren’t going to be perfect right out the gate,” Shiro said, wanting to put a hand on Keith’s shoulder, but not sure if Keith would respond well to the touch. He settled for bracing that hand on the pilot seat, near Keith’s head. “Even on my best days, I still messed up. And on my _bad days,_ I _really_ screwed up. The kind of mistakes that could get people killed. But we have a great team at our backs, and relying on them to keep themselves alive, to see through our mistakes and point out our bad calls — that’s how things are meant to be.”

 

Keith surged up from the chair, and then stopped, his arms hanging in the air awkwardly. He stammered, “I … I needed your advice, badly, but you weren’t … but then you _were._ But you didn’t know how to help, not really, you just told me I could do it, and it wasn’t enough.”

 

“It wasn’t _me,_ ” Shiro corrected him softly. “I’m sorry. Sorry I wasn’t here.”

 

“Not your fault,” Keith said firmly, though his voice gave way. “I … _I’m sorry,_ that I doubted you. That I doubted _my team_ when they tried to tell me he wasn’t really you.”

 

Shiro took those extended arms as the unspoken invitation they were; carefully, slowly, his own arms wrapped Keith up into a hug. He was so _rigid_ in Shiro’s embrace, but after a few seconds of holding dead still, Keith relaxed, and his face was buried in Shiro’s shoulder. A few more muffled apologies made it to Shiro’s ears.

 

“Stop, Keith, it’s fine. No one is holding those moments of doubt against you. You were all neck-deep in extraordinary circumstances. Everyone seemed more worried _for_ you than anything else. Even Lance. Which is great, by the way. Good on you both for getting over your differences.”

 

Keith snorted. “He calls me _Captain Mullet_ out in the field.”

 

Shiro smothered a laugh, did his best not to call attention to the blooming dampness on his shoulder, or the wet sniffling. “But does he follow your lead _while_ he’s calling you Captain Mullet?”

 

“… Yeah, I guess so.” Keith pulled away, swiping under his eyes and nose quickly. “Um, you probably should head to your room.” A _real_ smile now, tremulous but happy. “It’s … it’s good to have you back.”

 

Shiro let him go without any other words said — he knew Keith well enough to understand that the younger man would now need to go and be on his own for a bit after all this emotional release. He watched Keith from the viewscreen as he walked past the others; Keith actually laughed when Lance pointed a finger at him and then in the direction of their rooms, scolding in a way that Shiro could see was mostly playful. Shiro stayed in the Black Lion for a few more minutes, basking in the steady warmth surrounding him as he saw Keith leave with a quick wave towards everyone.

 

His Lion started pushing him gently towards _sleep,_ and Shiro sighed in agreement, standing up on shaky legs to leave … A swell of reassurance, a promise that this leave was _not permanent,_ and Shiro’s legs were no longer wobbling as he bid his Lion farewell (for now). Lance, Allura, and Hunk were there at the bottom of the ramp to crowd him with hugs and pats on the back, eagerly chattering, much more demonstrative than they were when he first arrived. He understood that distance now, though, and he forgave it easily.

 

When he got back to his room, he faced another temporary roadblock — the strange, uncomfortable sensation that came from knowing that _someone else_ had been in here. Someone he didn’t know, someone who, though against his will, had hurt his team.

 

He investigated every corner, and bizarrely enough, nothing major was out of place, but he couldn’t be _sure_ of it. Had his clothes been washed recently? His bed sheets? Could he sleep in there knowing …

 

But Shiro’s limbs felt so heavy, and his head fuzzy, dazed from an unbearably long day. It was time to let go — tomorrow he could take all the time he wanted in giving this room a thorough scrub-down.

 

It wasn’t like he had any Paladin duties to concern himself with anymore.

 

******

 

Sitting out battles was tough, tougher than he had imagined.

 

“We’ll take care of the fighters near the cruiser!” Coran shouted into the comm. “Shiro, Matt, get on those drones!”

 

“Roger, Coran!” Matt called from the other side of the bridge.

 

“On it!” Shiro replied at the same time. He wasn’t entirely useless, but shooting down fighters from the relative safety of the Castle, while everyone else dealt with the bulk of the danger …

 

He saw the second battle cruiser encroaching from his side of the viewscreen, and just as he opened his mouth, Hunk yelled, “Incoming, guys! At my ten o’clock!”

 

“Everybody, finish this one off, then we’ll hit this next player!” Keith shouted, already shooting off with his Lion.

 

But strangely, this new cruiser was not shooting at all, and the ship Keith seemed determined to destroy first, it had retreated near the moon of this planet, firing periodically. Shiro had a bad feeling … “Keith, hold off for a sec. I think they’re trying to lure you in.”

 

“Fighters are changing flight pattern!” Matt called out.

 

“My scanners are picking up a weird pocket of _nothing_ out by that moon,” Pidge reported. “Shiro’s right — there’s something there, and it’s cloaked.”

 

“Keep it steady, Keith!” Shiro's eyes took in the entire field of battle; the fighters were definitely corralling them towards the first cruiser. “Rushing isn’t going to do you good here.”

 

“But we’ll get it done, and _pronto_!” Lance cheered happily, as he and the Red Lion cut a blazing fast trail through several fighter drones. “Whoa, that’s it, Red! Keith, your call, man — tell us when to move.”

 

A couple moments of silent fighting followed, and then Keith spoke in a commanding tone, “Hunk, we’re gonna join you. Pidge, keep us updated on that cloaked ship. Lance, Allura and I are on your six!”

 

“Maybe you should —” Shiro started.

 

“Shiro, _I got this,_ ” Keith cut him off.

 

Shiro shut his mouth and tried to refocus on the drones. He told himself that he’d made Keith leader for _a reason._ Keith could do this, _was doing just fine._ And any mistakes Keith made, Keith was willing to own up to and correct.

 

It was just hard to let the battle go on without issuing commands of his own.

 

However, Keith did lead the team to victory, including a clever maneuver using the moon’s gravity against the cloaked ship. They didn’t even need to form Voltron to defeat these Galra. Lance did some truly _amazing_ flying in Red, and Shiro grinned, listening to him shout his joy incoherently as he blew up the last fighter in an overly flashy manner.

 

Shiro met them all as they went straight to the kitchen for a meal — Keith was absent, but that just gave Shiro time to gather his thoughts. He made a point to praise Hunk for his defense, and Pidge for her brilliant plan — though Matt was currently arguing with her about some technological adjustments she could make to Green. They were both smiling while they yelled at each other, so Shiro left them to it. Allura had unlocked Blue’s ice power and wielded it with a ferocity Shiro had never seen before, and he told her as much.

 

“I wonder if you have some kind of link that we don’t?” Shiro suggested.

 

Allura shrugged one shoulder, eyes shining and face flushed from the battle high. “I don’t think so? And it took time for Blue to bond with me — rather attached to Lance, you see.”

 

“I am both highly attachable and highly missable,” Lance agreed with a wink.

 

“Your loudmouth never gives us a chance to miss you,” Pidge said dryly.

 

Lance stuck out his tongue at the Green Paladin as Hunk ruffled his hair, the Yellow Paladin laughing at both of them.

 

Shiro turned to give Lance his due praise, but right then, Keith finally entered the kitchen. He paused in the doorway when he saw Shiro, which was all the prompting Shiro needed to say, “I’m sorry, Keith, I shouldn’t —”

 

“No, don’t apologize for helping us out,” Keith said quickly, smiling a little. “I mean, I might’ve missed that trap if you hadn’t taken over for a bit there. It’s cool.”

 

Shiro blinked, surprised at the lack of irritation or aggression. He then felt guilty for assuming Keith would be angry, especially since Shiro knew perfectly damn well that Keith wasn't the same rough and troubled kid from years ago. He'd been growing and maturing so much, partially because of this war. “Okay, but I really shouldn’t be usurping your role. You need to lead without my interference, and I promise not to step in again.”

 

Keith’s half-smile grew into a full smile, albeit rather tentative. “Sure, if you think I’m doing okay …”

 

“You’re doing _great,_ ” Shiro said with emphasis. “And now, you deserve a meal. Sit down.”

 

“My Meat Lovers Space Pizza is already being warmed, my dudes!” Hunk clapped his fingers. “I left it on a low setting before we took off.”

 

“ _That’s_ why you were late out?” Lance asked, frowning. “Don’t get me wrong, buddy, love the space pizza, but, uh, maybe next time settle for cold pizza as our victory dinner? We all know good pizza is delicious both hot and cold.”

 

“You’re right, I know you’re right,” Hunk said ruefully. “But, that’s next time. _Now_ we get to enjoy some hot mystery meat, fake cheese deliciousness!”

 

“Thanks, Hunk.” Keith took a seat between Lance and Matt, elbowing Lance to give him more room. “Shiro, you gotta try this, it’s so close to real pizza you might cry. Like Lance did when he first ate it.”

 

Lance elbowed Keith back hard. “Jerk, Hunk’s cooking _deserves_ tears of gratitude.”

 

Shiro may or may not be tempted to cry, but it had more to do with the sudden, unbelievably powerful flood of emotions as he watched Keith laugh, and Lance pout, and Hunk hum as moved about the kitchen. Matt and Pidge were arguing again, but this time Allura was joining in, playing them both against each other, and Coran slid into the kitchen, the mice hot on his heels, as he claimed to smell the pizza from three floors down.

 

Shiro was _home._

 

He really had to try harder to relax, to achieve the rest that the Black Lion and Keith insisted he needed. He’d been training most of the day, swimming laps in the pool in the evening, and studying a comprehensive analysis of their new allies until he’d been interrupted by this battle. Next time out, he would let Keith do what he needed to, no intrusions. He swore to himself he’d be _better._ He could take this break, he could let Keith lead …

 

*****

 

… Shiro couldn’t do this.

 

This was the fourth battle he’d been sitting out on, the _sixth_ mission, and he just couldn’t stay off the comms.

 

They’d had two covert operations that involved no Lions, and he could’ve tagged along, but Keith _and_ Coran had insisted he stay behind, despite the fact that he was _healthy_ now — he could absolutely fight. Just like  _Matt,_  whohad been permitted to fight alongside them on one of those missions.

 

But Shiro adhered to their request because Keith had been so persistent, so _worried,_ and maybe there was something to their concern. Black still wouldn’t let Shiro even take the Lion out for a joyride.

 

So Shiro watched them go off into danger, and he couldn’t stay quiet.

 

Maybe he hadn’t been on the sidelines as much as he should have been, but when he saw a potential mistake that could have _lethal consequences,_ he absolutely _had_ to say _something._

 

Keith didn’t tell him to stop, though Shiro could pick up on his frustration whenever Shiro’s voice came through the comms … But Keith would tell him if it was too much, and he hadn’t so far. Keith had never been shy about stating his opinions, even to his own detriment, and he would tell Shiro off if it was necessary.

 

“Shiro?”

 

Shiro lifted his eyes up from his tablet, from scrutinizing their latest intel from an allied planet close to Galra territory, to see Lance standing in his doorway, a nervous look on his face. (Shiro had been leaving his door open during the day lately — being able to distinctly see or hear any threats on approach helped him feel more secure in this room that at times felt … off to him.)

 

“Yeah, Lance, what’s up? Something wrong?”

 

“Nah, not really … except, yeah, okay, something’s kinda wrong, and I really need you to hear me out.” He walked further inside, hunched in on himself a bit.

 

Shiro put down the tablet and gave Lance his full attention. As soon as he did that, Lance’s shoulders straightened, and he seemed to gather himself up into a serious, firm stance, his eyes boring straight into Shiro’s.

 

“You need to back off of the missions,” Lance said, quickly but clearly. “For Keith.”

 

“I … why isn’t Keith here, telling me this?” He knew that wasn’t the first thing he should be asking, but his mouth went ahead before his brain could find the better route to take.

 

“Because he’s really glad you’re here, and also kind of hung up on the fact that he’ll never be as good a leader as you,” Lance stated without any hint of nervousness. Shiro flinched, opening his mouth to tell Lance to _get Keith in here,_ but Lance steamrolled right over him. “He _is_ a good leader, or at least, he can be, but you’re making him hesitate, and when he hesitates, he isn’t at his best. Keith leads _differently_ from you, not better or worse. His style is fast and decisive, and you’re messing with that.”

 

That tone was slightly scolding — Shiro surprised himself with how much that set him on edge, but he fought to ignore the tension, to really _listen_ to Lance’s words. He knew, in his gut, that Lance was _right,_ but now he had questions he needed to ask.

 

“While I was … elsewhere, did Keith take over right away? How did you all run missions?”

 

“Keith didn’t tell you about this?” Lance cocked his head to one side, eyes narrowed. It was a strange look on him — he was normally so open, so easy to read. Shiro had no idea where this _soldier_ had come from, and it pained him to see it.

 

“No, we haven’t been talking much about _before,_ just about … well, nothing important, I realize now,” Shiro said apologetically. Lance relaxed minutely when he heard that.

 

“Well …” Lance started slowly. “We ran missions in pairs or on our own. We liberated planets on the fringes of the Galra Empire, and we were pretty good until the heat turned up. Keith never even _mentioned_ that you asked him to lead until we had fight over who should take over.” Lance rolled his eyes. “He’s so _broody_. We didn’t really accept this info, so we decided to settle it by seeing who the Black Lion would accept … And it was Keith, obviously. But he _still_ didn’t want it, and we … we convinced him to take it. That there was no other choice. And that this choice was the _right one._ ”

 

 _Oh Keith,_ Shiro thought with a fresh sting of pain. “Thank you all for that. And … thank you, Lance, for coming to me with this. You’re right.”

 

Lance relaxed even further, and his face softened into a shy smile, also strange on his normally confident frame, but far easier for Shiro to deal with. Lance rocked back on his heels, his hands shoved into his jacket pockets. “Oookay, good talk then. Um, don’t tell Keith about this? Probably better if you just … back away slowly or something. Because Keith is all kinds of weird about other people ‘fighting his battles’ or whatever.”

 

“You’re a good second-in-command, Lance.” Shiro stood up, patting Lance’s shoulder. “I’m glad you two matured enough to set aside your differences.”

 

“He’s still an annoying mullet,” Lance argued immediately. “And I’m still the better pilot, he’s just so fast that it _looks_ like he’s better than me, but I got all the _finesse_ and he’s just quick, which isn’t always better, as I’m sure some ladies could —”

 

“Right, this was a good talk, now _good night,_ ” Shiro said, laughing a little when Lance grinned happily at him while waggling his eyebrows.

 

For a moment, Lance lingered in the doorway, and Shiro was about to ask him if he had something else he needed to say, but Lance just shook his head to himself and waved at Shiro over his shoulder. “Sweet dreams, man.”

 

Shiro’s brow furrowed after Lance left. Maybe he needed to corner Lance and have a chat about … About what? Something was pricking at his senses when it came to the Blue (currently Red) Paladin, but Shiro couldn’t quite pinpoint it. However, Lance appeared to be his usual, irrepressible self, so whatever it was, it probably wasn’t supremely important. Furthermore, Keith seemed to be pretty attuned to Lance, now, and vice versa; the last thing Shiro wanted was to intrude on that aspect of Keith’s leadership duties as well.

 

He decided to call it a night, closing his door at last, turning off his tablet, his lights, and settling into bed. He felt vaguely guilty after Lance’s talk, but also, knowing that backing off would make life easier for Keith, for all that Shiro was going to struggle with it … That was good. It was necessary.

 

But he should incorporate maintenance on parts of the Castle into his daily routine — or else he may lose his mind from boredom.

 

******

 

“Shiro, you need to stop this,” Allura said, slamming a tablet down in front of him at breakfast.

 

“Stop … stop what? I’m not _doing_ anything?” He was genuinely bewildered, having been absorbed in eating Hunk’s amazing Purple Almost-Belgian Waffles, his thoughts wandering nowhere in particular.

 

Allura slid into the seat across from him, shaking her head. “You are driving us insane. I’m happy to see you giving Keith what he needs to lead — that is to say, only suggestions in post-mission briefings instead of interference out on the field, and good on you for your restraint … But this Castle is running just _fine._ Better, thanks to modifications by Pidge, Hunk, Coran, and now Matt.” Allura exhaled loudly through her nose. “Coran says you altered the security codes _again._ ”

 

“They should be changed at least once a month,” Shiro said stubbornly. He had _time_ on his hands to consider these things, and really, he was _right._ “We’ve already had a _clone_ on here. If we alter the codes even bi-weekly, that’ll make it harder for any infiltrator —”

 

“Except that _we_ can’t keep track, and you’re making it unnecessarily difficult by making the codes _different for each wing of the Castle._ ” Allura rubbed her temples. “Shiro, why can’t you just _rest_?”

 

“Because this _is_ restful!” Shiro snapped, slapping his flesh hand on the table, rattling his cutlery off his plate. “I can’t, I’m not built for just lying around, Allura. I understand that a soldier can’t function at optimal capacity unless he sojourns from the battlefield periodically, _but this has been going for too damn long._ ”

 

The princess reared back, a guilty expression crossing her face. “Oh … I’m sorry for sounding so … accusatory. I’m afraid that my worry tends to manifest as frustration at times.” When Shiro murmured a quietly aggravated, _That’s fine,_ Allura crossed her arms, still looking apologetic despite his obvious irritation. “And I happen agree with you. So, before we consider letting you back on missions, I would like you to first commit to a few duties of a purely diplomatic capacity.”

 

Shiro had been gearing himself up for a fight, provoked into finally putting his foot down, demanding _freedom_ from this damn _stasis_ he’d been put in, but Allura had completely taken the wind from his sails. “I … okay, you want me to run missions again?”

 

“ _Diplomatic missions,_ and _yes._ Forging alliances is key to our defeating the Galra. Voltron is the rallying point for many species to join the fight. Your level-headedness would be much appreciated. Lance will be joining you on your first assignment.”

 

Well, that was interesting. His curiosity piqued once again by Lance, Shiro said, “He’s been everywhere, it seems.”

 

She laughed, her smile fond. “Yes, in my country in Altea, we would call a person like Lance a _master matriculator,_ which means someone who is at base level in many schools of thought and skill, though not graduated from any.”

 

“Ah, in English we would say _jack of all trades, master of none._ ” Shiro matched Allura’s smile. “Though he is the best crack shot I’ve ever see — so perhaps jack of all trades  _and_ master of one is more fair.”

 

“And speaking of Lance, I need to tell him about your trip to Halious Three. I believe he and Keith are on the training deck.”

 

Shiro joined her, but instead of entering the main floor, he ducked into the observation room, Allura casting him a curious look as he did so.

 

He raised an eyebrow in wordless inquiry as he analyzed this new program Lance and Keith were running. From his vantage point, there appeared to be a mini city of raised obstacles. Lance leapt from tower to tower, ducking behind small uneven fences to fire upon the drones beneath him; simultaneously, Keith used the black bayard, in sword form, to slice through the overwhelming numbers around him.

 

Lance’s sniper rifle transformed into his usual automatic weapon as he slid down one lopsided tower to finish off the last of the robots, back-to-back with Keith. (Shiro had been shocked the first time he’d seen Lance do this with his bayard — he’d missed so much. It ached that didn’t get to see everyone’s faces, especially Lance’s, when he’d unlocked this ability.)

 

“They are incredible.” Shiro’s pride in his two teammates had him grinning at Lance’s crowing and Keith’s smaller show of victory — a smile and a laugh as Lance whipped off his helmet and held it over his head like a trophy.

 

Allura clapped her hands together. “Ah, this is the best I’ve seen of them! They’re really coming along — and I wouldn’t have believed it if you told me back at the beginning of our acquaintance.”

 

Neither Shiro nor Allura had turned on the comm system, so they couldn’t hear what Keith was saying. Shiro could tell that it was serious, and Lance was listening intently, a pensive frown overtaking his excited triumph.

 

“All right, let’s get in there so I can give you your mission debrief together with Lance,” Allura said, leading the way out and down towards the entrance to the deck itself.

 

When the doors slid open, it was to the sound of an argument — calm and measured, but a disagreement nonetheless.

 

“ — not saying it wouldn’t be awesome to have _two_ sharpshooters, dude, but Matt is _wicked_ with that staff and it’s, like, a totally different skill set?” Lance had his arms crossed, his face set in a more prominent frown. “But I’ll talk to him, okay? We’ll see if I can get him trained up or not. Just don’t be surprised if he’s not as good as me.”

 

Keith rolled his eyes. “You’re a good shot, Lance, but with enough work, I’m sure Matt could be just as good, and it would be handy to have two eyes up on certain missions. I think we should also consider seeing if Matt is compatible with any of the Lions —”

 

“Keith, what the hell is this new obsession with Matt Holt?” Lance’s arms were flung out on either side of him. “ _W_ _e have a great team,_ and it took us _forever_ to get this awesome, and now you want to —”

 

“What I want is us to not _burn out,_ ” Keith said through gritted teeth. Then he seemed to take a moment, sigh, and continue on in a far more sedate tone. “Shiro needed the break, and so will one of you, eventually, and we can’t afford to _not_ be able to form Voltron, so having a couple of others who can pilot the Lions is just —”

 

Lance exhaled slowly. “Right. I see your point. Voltron Team B out when we’re stuffed in cryo-pods. Or getting much needed beauty sleep.” Shiro was glad to see that Lance was coming around to this idea — it was a _smart_ plan, and Lance no longer seemed to be willing to oppose Keith simply because he could.

 

“And don’t think I missed the whole _one of you_ thing!” Lance stuck a finger in Keith’s face, and Keith didn’t flutter an eyelash. “You’ll burn yourself out long before I do, _Red Paladin._ ”

 

Keith appeared to be concentrating on the finger in his face, nearly going cross-eyed … and then he tried to bite it. Shiro could hear the click of Keith’s teeth even from where he was standing; he had to clench his jaw to keep from cracking up.

 

Particularly as Lance squeaked in an absurdly high-pitch and hopped back, looking both horrified and deeply offended. “You freaking _animal._ Don’t play the scary Galra with me, _I know about your hippo thing._ ” Keith scoffed, but his ears turned pink as he glowered. Lance ignored him, contemplating the Lion shift out loud. The solemn expression slid back onto his face. “Let’s see if Matt is good with Blue or Red. Or maybe Green, since he and Pidge are so close …”

 

“Hey, guys, don’t mean to interrupt,” Shiro spoke up, having stood by long enough, feeling the same pride he’d felt while watching them work together to cut down their enemies — being able to fight and see each other’s perspectives, that was no less difficult, and Shiro wished he’d been around to see this all develop. But then again, it had taken him disappearing to kick them into gear, so perhaps not, and  _that_ was a grim thought — that he’d been holding them back somehow …

 

But no, not now, the mission came first.

 

“Yes, we do apologize, but we have an important diplomatic stop to make, and I was hoping you, Lance, would accompany Shiro this time.” Allura gave them a smile as Keith greeted them with a silent head tilt.

 

“Oh, a chance to impress another alien princess or queen? I’m down,” Lance chirped, his cheerfulness restored in short order.

 

Allura sighed. “Yes, well, keep in mind what happened on Edron, and maybe you’ll secure us an ally _without_ nearly getting us exiled?”

 

Keith snorted, hiding his laugh with a cough when Lance glared at him. “Whatever, I almost got myself a royal wife, and then I would’ve been _king_ —”

 

“Yeah, no, that’s not even close to what happened,” Keith said with great amusement. “Which planet are they heading to?”

 

“Halious Three,” Allura answered promptly, clasping her hands in front of herself. “The Blade of Marmora have liberated their capital, and the Halious forces have been able to beat the Galra largely out of their major cities. We’ll provide support in finishing them off, and then Lance and Shiro shall begin the negotiation for their entry into our coalition.” She turned and indicated that they follow her.

 

“What’s our position?” Shiro asked, pretending to not see Lance and Keith’s quick exchange of shoves as they all proceeded out after Allura. “We need more look-out posts in this quadrant, so I assume that’s one condition?”

 

“Yes,” Allura agreed. “And we need more fighter squadrons. The Olkari are stretched thin — Halious Three has one of the best fleets in this galaxy, and if they would be willing to supplement Olkari patrols, we could rest assured that the Galra would have an incredibly difficult time retaking these systems.”

 

“I’m not hearing anything about a royal beauty for me to use my wiles on,” Lance pointed out, wiggling his eyebrows. “Not sure why you’d ask me along otherwise?”

 

“Because you’ve got a persuasive way about you, Lance and _no, do not turn that into innuendo or I swear on Altea I will space you._ ”

 

Lance shut his mouth, Keith smothered another laugh into his shoulder, and Shiro did his best to keep his face as blank as possible.

 

Allura nodded once. “Excellent, so, I’ll provide you two with details, and then I suggest you both head down in the Red Lion once the fighting is over — give them a good show before you land, yes?”

 

Lance saluted her. “Aye-aye, Princess.”

 

Shiro mimicked Lance. “Yes ma’am.”

 

Keith groaned. “No, no, do not start, we don’t need _two_ idiots who think they’re funny on this team.”

 

Shiro gave Lance a nudge with his elbow, as he explained in an exaggeratedly commanding voice, “Keith, you need to learn to appreciate and use all the talent available to you, and that includes a sense of humour. Especially when those talents help to make up for areas in which you may be _woefully_ lacking. For example, Lance and I would be willing to listen to any intel you may have on the creature known as the hippopota—”

 

“ _I’m going to kick your ass on the training deck after this,_ ” Keith hissed, but he was barely heard over Lance and Allura’s cascade of giggles.

 

******

 

“Kolivan!” Lance called out happily, rushing over to the large Galra leader after he and Shiro had disembarked the Red Lion.

 

Applause rung all around them, the Haliousian citizens abuzz over Lance’s flying. Even without a connection to this Lion, Shiro could tell how much _fun_ both Red and her new Paladin were having with their sharp banks, steep plunges, abrupt barrel rolls … It was a good thing Shiro had a stronger stomach than Hunk. As it was, stepping out onto solid ground had been extra gratifying thanks to the _show_ Lance and Red had put on.

 

The leader of the Blade of Marmora nodded at Lance, an actual smile on his face as he greeted the paladin. “Welcome, Lance — your team did good work in routing the Galra from this world.”

 

“Couldn’t have done it if you guys hadn’t weakened them from the start!” Lance said, shaking his head in denial of the praise, and then turning to the leader of Halious Three — a muscular, militant alien, who had pale grey skin with rough scales of dark blue lining his arms up to his shoulders, disappearing beneath a form-fitting emerald green uniform.

 

Goroun, Primary Admiral, gave them a deep bow. Shiro didn’t miss the way his luminous violet eyes had been narrowed in suspicion at Kolivan, though his expression lightened as Lance and Shiro greeted him.

 

Shiro stepped forward, taking Goroun’s large hand before Lance could. “It’s an honour to meet you, sir,” Shiro said in his best imitation of Allura’s regal tones. “I’m Shiro, member of Voltron.” In a way, though not in the way he would like. “And this is Lance, our current Red Paladin, and right-arm of Voltron.”

 

Lance sidestepped so he could also shake the Primary Admiral’s hand. “Great to be here, sir — and I heard you have an amazing naval fleet! I don’t suppose you’d be willing to show me?” Lance grinned excitedly. “I’m a Red Paladin for now, but a Blue Paladin at heart, and there’s nothing I love more than _oceans._ ”

 

The last of the mistrust cleared from Goroun’s eyes as he grinned back at Lance, shaking his hand far more enthusiastically than he had Shiro’s. “Of course, young Paladin! We are honoured by your visit.”

 

As everyone gathered to accompany the General out towards his nearby ships, he paused, saying in a rather neutral tone. “Are we to be joined by the Galra, then?”

 

“By the Blade of Marmora?” While Lance's exuberance was still there, he shifted into a rather militant stance of his own, moving to stand right next to Kolivan. “ _Yes, we are._ They’re the heroes of your capital and the ones who did most of the hard work. I’m honoured that they would allow us to share in _their_ victory.”

 

Shiro was taken aback by the vehemence in Lance’s tone. However, based on the faintest twitch of Kolivan’s mouth, this was maybe typical?

 

He hung back for a time, letting Lance smooth things over with Goroun as Shiro and Kolivan brought up the rear.

 

“Welcome, Shiro,” Kolivan said congenially. “I’d heard from Coran the … circumstances of your return. I’m afraid I lack words for such an evil. I apologize on behalf of all Galra.”

 

“It wasn’t all Galra who did this,” Shiro replied, shaking his head. “Your apologies, while appreciated, are not necessary.”

 

“You’re a good man, Shirogane.” Kolivan’s smile was as genuine as the one he had given Lance.

 

Speaking of Lance, he had just made the now dozen or so diplomats surrounding him break into joyous laughter, and he immediately whipped out his tablet, taking pictures and getting them all in a giant selfie. Shiro … didn’t feel very necessary to this endeavour. He choked back a fresh wave of resentment, of fear and guilt, and focused on keeping eyes on the entire scene. While the planet was free, that didn’t mean there were no threats present.

 

But speaking of that freedom …

 

“Have you been encountering this kind of pushback often?” Shiro asked with a frown, offended on Kolivan’s behalf.

 

“Yes,” Kolivan answered simply. “But we understand. Our faces have been the faces of _their_ oppressors for centuries. We cannot expect everyone to see us the way you do.”

 

“Well, you definitely have us in your corner,” Shiro said firmly. “There is no way we would succeed without you at our side.”

 

“Oh, we can see that.” Kolivan's tone lightened, his amusement understated but obvious. “While you were … absent, Lance became our spokesperson. At this rate, he’ll be insisting they throw us _parades_ and immortalize us on their walls. At one point, I believe he tried to marry one of my men off to a Rindthuin duchess.”

 

A loud cough and some clearing of throats came from the Blades at Shiro’s back — really, for such ultimate spies, they did a poor job of hiding their mirth.

 

Shiro chuckled. "I’m not surprised — Lance takes considerable pride in his people skills. It might be easier to give in to him once in a while.” He considered Keith working alongside the Blades all this time, Keith's acceptance that he may never find his blood relatives, and decided to risk Keith's wrath as he asked, “I don’t suppose Keith has gotten any more answers from you? About his … family?” 

 

“He did not ask, but regardless, I offered what we knew once he became commander of Voltron. If that blade was his mother’s, she — or whomever his mother received the blade from — belonged to a cell that has either been destroyed, or has ceased contact for security purposes." Shiro felt a pang on Keith's behalf. Kolivan nodded in sympathy, seeming to understand without Shiro having to say a word, and perhaps because of that sympathy, Kolivan diverted back to their original conversation. "It would probably come of no shock to hear that your young leader does not permit anyone to besmirch our name either, though he is perhaps less … effusive than Lance.”

 

Lance made a high-pitched noise that could only be described as a squeal, and then took off running towards the ships — and Shiro had to admit, they were gorgeous vessels. The waters of Halious were a glittering aquamarine, and the ships were rich browns, every square inch painted in colours that swirled about carved images of sea creatures. The sails had the emblem of each country, Shiro guessed. Lance was beside himself as he stood on the dock, nattering away — Shiro caught the words _pirate_ and _captain._

Once upon a time, Shiro had found Lance mildly annoying. Lance hadn’t impressed him too much those first few days — he’d been deliberately antagonizing Keith, boldly bragging to anyone who would listen about his shooting and piloting prowess, flirting without shame. While Shiro grew to like and respect him in the days that followed, he had still found Lance a little too excitable.

 

Now, fresh from months away from his team, from being alone and fighting gritty battles alongside Matt, who’d changed from an eager young scientist to a battle-hardened rebel … Now, Shiro laughed easily at Lance’s effusiveness, and while maybe he still found him a touch too _out there,_ he appreciated the way that personality trait could find Lance — and by extension, their team — allies and friends. 

 

Lance was a far bigger asset to the resistance than Shiro was.

 

Which made the events of the next few hours both baffling and heartbreaking.

They successfully began negotiations for a treaty between Halious Three and the Voltron Coalition; Shiro made their stance and rules clear, and Lance used his good will with Goroun to essentially sweet-talk him into agreeing. Their confidence — Shiro’s more solemn, understated certainty, and Lance’s charmingly loud assertions — made for a pretty good combination.

 

And so Shiro let his guard down when they retreated into their rooms at the Admiral’s estate. He let himself crash into his bed without first checking every conceivable corner of his space for traps or bugs, for concealed rooms or hidden passageways. He let himself enjoy the luxury of a cool breeze on a warm night, and eased himself down into the covers.

 

So when the needle pierced his neck, plunging him into harsh darkness inside of two seconds, he had no idea who or what …

 

Only that he was coming to on cold stone floors, his head aching fiercely, his muscles too heavy, moving sluggishly despite his frantic commands to _get up, get out!_

But as his sight and hearing returned, he could see Lance, dressed in silk pyjamas, sprawled in front of Shiro, his voice clear as a bell as he shouted, “ _No, you take me instead — whatever ransom you need, they’ll pay, all right? I’m a Paladin of Voltron, there’s no Voltron if one of us is missing. He’s just an advisor, not nearly as valuable!_ ”

 

“Lance, _stop,_ ” Shiro murmured, nothing like the yell he imagined in his mind, like the scream scrabbling for release at the back of his throat.

 

Their captors slammed the door shut, the echo of that pierced by a sharp, high sound, a tingle along Shiro’s skin, indicating some kind of electrical barrier going up.

 

“Damn it,” Lance hissed, whipping around to see Shiro blinking blearily up at him. “Oh _thank fuck,_ you’re alive, holy shit. I mean, I knew you were alive, but I really thought you might be in a coma or something because, let’s face it, with your luck, you totally would’ve had a bad reaction to whatever they dosed us with and —”

 

“Lance!” That came out stronger, thankfully _._ “You’re not going to sacrifice yourself for me — what are you _thinking?_ How could you —”

 

“No, it’s fine, because Matt can probably pilot one of the Lions, or you could take Black from Keith. Red misses Keith like crazy, though we’re having some fun … Whatever, point being, you’ll totally be able to form Voltron —”

 

Shiro’s body _finally_ listened to him, and lunged to grasp Lance’s upper arms both as support and a means to keep the young Paladin focused on his words. “That’s not the _point._ I’m not letting you go off and get held for ransom or killed or _anything._ Not for me. And no, we don’t know that Black would just let me in again — he hasn’t let me so far.” Shiro couldn’t keep the bitterness out of his voice.

 

Lance caught it, his eyes taking in Shiro’s features far too adeptly. “Oh. You … you miss Black. You miss … Oh, duh. I’m so stupid. I’m sorry, Shiro, when I came to talk to you, I didn’t mean to make you … You’re _so important,_ to us, to this team, to _Keith._ You can’t … You have to go back.”

 

“Not without you — you’re important, too,” Shiro insisted, and maybe he felt a little better, despite the circumstances. Lance sounded so sincere, so matter-of-fact. “You’re important to me, to the team. To Keith.”

 

Lance’s cheeks took on a pink flush, but he shook his head in denial. “No, see, the thing is that Allura is an amazing Blue Paladin. Better than I ever was. I’m a great Red Paladin, don’t get me wrong, but I know I’m not as good as Keith. Pidge and Hunk are way too fantastic at their science-y stuff for us to even consider letting them step down except for break or injury time, so the only backup for them would be Matt, who’s awesome too. And you — you’re _Takashi Shirogane._ ”

 

The hero worship in Lance’s tone carried awe, years of adoration and respect, and _how had Shiro missed this? Why_  didn’t he know that Lance had looked up to him _this much?_ He put one hand on Lance’s shoulder, bracing his metal one against the wall as he pulled himself further upright. The guilt swimming in his veins did a fine job of bringing his brain up to full functionality. Lance was getting out of here. Shiro did not deserve this level of devotion, and Lance wasn’t going to self-sacrifice for a burned-out soldier.

 

Lance bristled — Shiro hadn’t said any of that out loud, but apparently he didn’t have to.

 

“ _No._ ” Lance pushed at him with both hands. “You’re _needed_ in a way _I’m not._ You’d be so good at getting Keith to be the leader he needs to be, and obviously you’re a master pilot. Plus, you have Matt now to act as a backup, and he kicks all kinds of ass. So … let me do this. Let me be a decent soldier. I can lie down on this wire for you. Please.”

 

Shiro had been completely thrown by all the revelations his drug-addled mind had to absorb in the past few minutes, but the realization that Lance didn’t think himself a worthy Paladin, an essential part of their team, of their _family_  … That one stung more than anything else. While he’d been wallowing in his own stupid misery, he’d missed that his brave young friend had been slowly but surely descending into the kind of thinking that led to _reckless, suicidal_ decision-making.

 

He was not the leader or soldier Lance thought him to be. But _fuck it,_ he was going to get his head on straight and _do better right the fuck now._

“Red is probably going to come in guns a-blazing to save you, so we better be ready,” Shiro said briskly. “If you’ve got any ideas that _don’t_ include self-sacrifice, I’m all ears. Otherwise, let’s take up positions by the door — see if we can’t surprise these assholes next time they come in.”

 

Lance started, jerking upright as Shiro pulled on his upper arms, and he did as he was told, though he did say, in a rather joking manner, “Um, I don’t think Red and I have that kind of relationship.”

 

Shiro winced, hearing layers of pain beneath those words, but he couldn’t pick them apart now, not when their lives were at risk. “Okay, we’re going to have a talk about this when we get out of here,” Shiro told Lance, trying to be both firm and kind. “And I might need to drag Keith in, as your leader —”

 

“ _Carajo, no,_ anyone but him!” Lance exclaimed, and that pink tinge was back, totally different from the angry red that would wash over his face whenever he used to get hot-headed over Keith. _Hm, interesting,_ Shiro considered absently, most of his focus on the situation at hand.

He didn’t have much time to think further, as right then the doors slid open, a gruff voice speaking, “We’ll take the boy and kill the other one — boy’ll be easier to control —”

 

Lance sprung and knocked the alien unconscious with two precise jabs to the side of its head and neck. Shiro leapt at nearly the same moment, his Galra arm taking care of two others who were fumbling with their weapons.

 

He and Lance stood over their bodies, and Lance said exactly what Shiro was thinking. “Man, I’m _embarrassed_ that we got taken out by these _idiots._ Keith is never going to let me live this down. Pidge is gonna have mocking material for _weeks._ ”

 

“Did they really want to ransom us?” Shiro asked irritably.

 

“I overheard something about _high value_ and _contact the rest of them,_ so I assume yes?” Lance picked up a rifle from one of them, his face lighting up with a happy grin. “Aw yeah. Now they’re _really_ in trouble.”

 

A powerful explosion shook the building all around them, a low roar thrumming in their ears, lingering.

 

“I believe trouble has arrived in the form of a giant red lion.” Shiro may have been smug when he spoke, but he felt he’d earned it.

 

Lance gave him a dubious look, even as hope flashed in those blue eyes, hope that Lance blinked away. This had Shiro gritting his teeth and _hating_ his own obliviousness. He bent down, sifting through the other weapons — a few short swords and daggers, nothing better than what Shiro already had with his Galra arm. Shiro sighed, shoving the idiot criminals into the cell and locking the door.

 

“Let’s get the hell out of here and see what’s happening. You want to take the lead?” Shiro stretched his arms and legs, readying himself for a fast and brutal exit.

 

The incredulous stare on Lance’s face prompted Shiro to point straight down the hall and speak with utmost confidence. “You’re better than I could ever be with a gun, makes sense for you to take point. I’ve got your six. I’ll be right beside you when we hit open air.”

 

A gulp and a nod, and then, “Prepare to be amazed, Shiro — this kind of shooting will never be seen again in these parts.”

 

Lance took off, Shiro right on his heels. Somehow, Lance fired more precisely than Shiro remembered. He recalled the way Lance and Keith had trained the day before — it wasn’t all that surprising, how good Lance was, but it was one thing seeing it on a training deck, and another seeing in action, in battle, when both their lives were on the line.

 

By the time they reached the outside, Red was lighting up the cannons and rocket launchers of their would-be abductors. People were fleeing or cowering behind cover. Their kidnappers’ base seemed to be on a small island — Shiro could just make out the docks, lit up with beautiful ships still on display. Shiro could also see a few more Lions flying their way. These poor saps had no clue what they were in for.

 

It was pretty disappointing, overall.

 

Shiro snatched a grenade out of the air and tossed it towards the jackass who’d tried to take them out — apparently, since ransoming them was no longer an option, killing them was the way to go? The _morons._

“Shiro!” Lance shot at an explosive fuel container near a group of thugs, the explosion drawing attention to their presence, weapons locking onto them.

 

Shiro grabbed Lance around the waist and pulled him behind a few crates. The laser bolts breezed over their heads, and Lance growled out some curses in both English and Spanish, surging up past Shiro to fire back over the metal boxes.

 

A knife-wielding jerk to their right proved to be the most competent of the lot. Shiro hadn’t noticed him until the dagger was flying straight for Lance. He got his metal arm up, deflecting the projectile easily.

 

The first dagger. The second one, he didn’t see. Not until it was protruding from his chest, just beneath his raised Galra arm.

 

“Oh.”

 

But he stood his ground, even as the area went numb, as his heart skipped a beat and then resumed pounding erratically. Lance needed him, and Shiro, Shiro was expendable at this point, no matter what Lance said …

 

“No, Shiro!” More firing as Shiro knocked away a few more daggers — and then charged the asshole, knocking him clean off his feet with one solid punch. He collapsed behind a few more crates. Lance came running after him, still firing his gun, while Shiro blinked up at the sky, watching blearily as the Black Lion and the Yellow Lion came roaring in.

 

The fighting halted seconds after that.

 

“Shiro? _Shiro? Lance?”_ That was Keith, _good_ , Lance would be fine.

 

“Keith! Over here, now! Shiro, no, _coño,_ no, you’re not allowed! Don’t do this, please, we just …”

 

Lance would be fine, so Shiro could breathe easy, maybe even rest easy …

 

******

 

They had to come up with a better way to fall out of these cryo-pods. Surely, Shiro thought dimly, there must be a way to set them horizontally so that a person didn’t just spill out of them once they were opened.

 

Coran caught Shiro, had him put on a floating gurney — that seemed new? — and then pushed him slowly into a corner that had shelves and a small table filled with medical instruments and various bottles containing different coloured liquids.

 

“Right, look straight at me, my boy,” Coran ordered kindly.

 

There was no one in the med bay, and it _felt_ late — perhaps middle of the night? Shiro’s internal clock was pretty well tuned to the Castle, even with the lengthy absence.

 

“How long?” he croaked out.

 

He was handed a glass of water, which he drank gratefully.

 

“Just about one quintant,” Coran answered him. “I chased the others out, told them I would call them the instant you awoke. Might have fibbed a bit, as everyone was quite exhausted.”

 

“Not too long then,” Shiro muttered.

 

“Disappointed?” Coran asked lightly.

 

“I … what?”

 

Coran’s eyes, normally so vibrant and jovial, were now dark and serious. “Disappointed to find yourself still with us? In the land of the living?”

 

“What? _No._ Of course not, I wouldn’t …”

 

“Because Lance went off on a tear,” Coran continued on, somewhat casually. “Informed us that you felt rather _useless_ to our missions and overall goal to destroy the Galra Empire. He seemed to blame himself, in part, when he paraphrased a conversation he’d had with you a few movements ago … That did not illicit the best response from Keith.”

 

Shiro groaned, rubbing at his face with his flesh-and-blood hand. “The last thing I want is to push those two apart again.”

 

“Well, that’s an issue for another time, right now, we’re talking about you, Shiro.”

 

“I’m fine,” was his first, instinctual response.

 

Coran said nothing as he continued to evaluate him with an assortment of scanners and lights. After a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, Shiro conceded, “I’m not … happy, entirely, with my support role, I’ll grant you, but that doesn’t mean I’m suicidal.”

 

Shiro’s spine straightened as he spoke nothing but the absolute _truth_. It had never _once_ occurred to him to end this, not here, in the present. (The days of the arena were too clouded over, he could admit that to himself, but what mattered most was the _here and now,_ and no, _not a single time._ )

 

Coran sighed and leaned against the wall opposite, his eyes assessing him closely. “Allow me then to clarify my question. Throughout the war against the Galra, I saw many soldiers, including Allura’s father, take unnecessary risks. Not because they wished for an end, but because they felt as though those risks were, in fact, _necessary._ What drove them to this conclusion was not a purveying sense of futility, but the erroneous assumption that while they did not wish to die, their life somehow meant _less_ than that of their commanding officer. Or their squad leader. Or any other soldier.”

 

Shiro stared at Coran’s hands, crossed over his chest, gripping his upper arms tightly. That … did sound familiar.

 

“Suicidal is not the right word, I agree,” Coran said softly. “But this problem can be just as grave, if you’ll forgive the awful pun.”

 

That got a snort out of Shiro, reflexive, but then he faltered, his mind working through Coran’s words. Shiro struggled to clarify his own perspective, even as it shifted before his eyes. “I see what you’re saying, Coran, but I … I don’t want to die — I don’t want to leave you all behind again. I know what it would do this team. What it would do to _Keith …_ ”

 

“What about you? Have you considered what _you_ would be missing out on?”

 

That brought Shiro up short. He hadn’t really devoted much reflection to that at all. He’d wanted to re-join the battle, to find his purpose again — to serve _others, his team, and the universe_ … But as for his own personal stakes … Well, it was a luxury for a soldier, wasn’t it? To want something for himself, and only himself, of no direct benefit to the cause?

 

“What wins a war are soldiers who are ready and eager to fight the good fight,” Coran stated. “Not soldiers who throw their lives away at any opportunity. Those who fight because they have a reason to live to fight another day — who want to see their homes and families again. Who can return to the battlefields with an eye on not only this battle, but also the next. And the one after. They become wiser and more efficient. Expert leaders some.”

 

Coran uncrossed his arms, taking a step closer to Shiro. He raised a hand, placing it on Shiro’s shoulder very carefully. “A good soldier can recognize when he needs to step back from the field and recharge his crystals, yes? You, Shiro, are one of the finest soldiers I’ve ever seen. What you have been through, in so short a time? I don’t believe I’ve _ever_ seen _anyone_ who would survive as you’ve had, with sanity intact. My boy, you not only _need_ a rest, you _deserve_ one.”

 

Maybe similar things had been said to him in the past, but Coran’s unwavering tone, his certainty founded on years of bloody conflict … It resonated deep within him, and Shiro …

 

Shiro was so damn _fucking_ tired.

 

While the exhaustion pushed his limbs down, his head came up, staring into Coran’s eyes. From the depths of that alien gaze, Shiro could recognize sadness and acceptance entwined, while Coran’s hand radiated warm comfort.

 

“I … don’t know what to do,” Shiro confessed, his voice raspy.

 

“Well, resting is different for everyone. Personally, I think diplomatic missions are a grand idea, providing they don’t all turn out like this one,” Coran said with a bitter twist to his mouth. “Adjusting security protocols on the Castle is fine, so long as you consult with myself and Allura. Training seems ideal, in moderate doses. In the meantime … I’ve been working on a greenhouse area, to grow a variety of herbs, fruits, and vegetables — a self-sustaining environment that will need some tending …”

 

“You want me to … garden?”

 

“It’s quite soothing! And useful! Imagine the kinds of goodies Hunk and I could cook up with superior ingredients! And of course, I mean it as a hobby, not as your main duty,” Coran rushed to say. When Shiro chuckled slightly, waving off the verbal onslaught, Coran smiled in return, and then spoke in the most serious tone Shiro had ever heard from him, “I would also suggest that perhaps you consider speaking to one of us whenever you feel … adrift without a centre of gravity, shall we say? Whoever you feel comfortable speaking with, whether it be myself or Keith, since you’re so close to him.”

 

“I’ll … consider that. I talk to Keith about a lot of things, but not … this. I didn’t fully realize …” He stopped, eyes widening as his mind suddenly shoved the image of Lance, small and withdrawn in the cell with Shiro. “Lance! Coran, I’m with you, I’ve heard you, but _we need to talk about Lance_.”

 

“Is something wrong?” The urgency was there, a fresh burst of panic surging up in Coran’s countenance. Shiro knew the older man felt attachment to all of them, no doubt, but he had a particular soft spot for Lance.

 

“Everything you’ve said about me, it might be true for Lance, though … I think in a different way,” Shiro said, slowing down as he tried to organize his observations into coherent words. “He jumped to offer himself to the kidnappers — he’s got this crazy idea that he’s _expendable_ because he doesn’t have anything to offer to the team, which is, well, _ridiculous._ We need to deal with this. Sooner rather than later.”

 

Coran’s frown deepened the more Shiro spoke, and by the end of the explanation, he appeared to be lost in thought. “I’ll try my best to talk to the boy. Perhaps you should speak to Keith. He and Lance have been closer of late, and he is the team leader. He should be made aware of these issues.”

 

“I thought maybe I’d go to Hunk —”

 

“Hunk is loyal to a fault, he would not betray Lance’s confidence.” Coran sighed, rubbing at his face. “I’ve been neglectful in my duty to all of you, it seems. I should’ve been more aware of these problems. I am sorry.”

 

Shiro shook his head during those last few words. “No, Coran, we’re a fighting force stretched thin. The amount of work you do on this ship, and then trying to herd all of us into a functioning unit — it’s been nothing short of miraculous.” Shiro put his own hand on Coran’s shoulder. “Take your own advice and know that you are not only valued, but also you need to cut yourself some slack.”

 

Coran turned their mutual shoulder pats into a brief but heartfelt hug, one that Shiro returned gladly.

 

“You're correct, I should learn from my own counsel, as I am quite excellent!” Coran leaned back and stroked through his mustache. “Let us both proceed to our quarters for much needed sleep, and on the morrow, tackle our respective charges.”

 

“Agreed,” Shiro said, a smile on his face, thin but genuine.

 

It was astonishingly easy to collapse into his bed after Coran had walked him to his room. The wave of exhaustion that washed over him no longer felt insurmountable — instead, it softly swept him over into sleep, dreamless, dark, and gratifyingly deep.

 

******

 

When Shiro woke up, it was to a series of persistent knocks on his door. He stumbled to his feet, alert inside of three seconds — slower than normal, but he also felt a fair bit more at ease than he usually did. Not entirely. But enough to not immediately leap out of bed with his Galra arm set for attack.

 

He palmed open the door, blinking in surprise as Matt looked up at him from beneath his unruly bangs. He scrutinized Shiro for several silent moments before saying, “You need to sleep more.”

 

“I mean, I was _just_ sleeping until you —”

 

Matt waved a hand between their faces, using his other hand to push Shiro back into his room. “In general. Bumped into Coran just now, told me you were up and out last night. If you’re just waking up now, then you’ve had twelve hours of sleep at least.”

 

“Oh,” Shiro said, disorientated by that — _twelve hours of natural sleep?_  “I … don’t think I’ve passed out for that long since I was fourteen.”

 

“Coran also hinted that you might be … Well, he didn’t really hint at it, I just …” Matt stopped. “Okay, so I’ve been with the rebels for a long time.”

 

Shiro nodded. Matt had been broken out of his lower security prison area roughly when Shiro had become the … master of the arena.

 

“You saw all the training and battle prep, but they also had … people you could talk to. Their soldiers see some truly awful things, and they know better than to leave any kind of wound untended, _especially_ the ones they can’t see.”

 

“What did Coran tell you?” Shiro asked abruptly, tensing up.

 

“Nothing, Shiro, I swear,” Matt said quickly, face full of empathy. “All he said was that you’d be resting more after this, that we needed to consider some kind of rotation so we can all rest. I’m a fair bit of a genius, though maybe not as brilliant as Katie — I figured you’d finally come clean about the fact that you’re kind of burned out.”

 

“Come clean, as in you already knew.” Shiro sat down on his bed, staring at his friend. “Matt, you never said anything to me.”

 

“Because you’re pretty good at acknowledging and solving all kinds of problems _except_ the ones you don’t consider relevant to the mission. You don’t do it intentionally, but …” Matt chuckled dryly. “If you hadn’t said or done something, eventually _I_ would’ve gone to Allura and Coran to point out that you were on the verge of breaking into a thousand pieces.”

 

“So why are you coming to me now?” Shiro watched as Matt sucked in a deep breath, and his eyes dimmed.

 

“Because whatever it is you decide to do? I … I want to maybe try it myself. It’s been … rough. I’m not … I’m not as good as I seem to be.”

 

Matt had been _incredible_ at the rebel camp. He’d carved out a loyal group of friends — soldiers willing to listen to his advice. They allowed him to plan strategies, and to make calls out in the field. He was their tech expert, and a highly skilled fighter with that staff … He’d never _once_ shown a hint of exhaustion or weakness. Just smiled and winked each time he and Shiro took down an enemy together. Just laughed during training here on the Castle, and bothered Pidge in all the ways an older sibling could.

 

“You’re not the only one,” Shiro said with what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “And I expect it won’t only be us two.” He thought of Pidge, of Hunk, and Keith … and Lance. “How do you feel about gardening?”

 

“Like I hate getting dirt under my nails … but it also sounds nice and quiet?”

 

“And maybe talking to Coran?”

 

“Man is far more insightful than he seems,” Matt concurred. He offered a hand to Shiro. “And you can talk to me. I’m one of the few that knows a bit about what you went through in that prison.”

 

Shiro was struck by the abrupt realization that he’d been avoiding not only the reality of his own burdens and the effect they had on him, but in doing so, was unable to recognize the same symptoms in others. In Matt. In Lance. As a result, he'd also failed to see that these people? They were the best support system he could ask for.

 

“Maybe, someday soon.” Shiro took Matt’s hand, used it to pull himself up. “I’m starving. Food?”

 

“Hunk made hot dogs. I do not know what he used to make these hot dogs, but as they actually taste like street meat, I don’t care.”

 

“Best not to ask then,” Shiro said gravely, mouth watering at the idea of anything resembling a real, juicy hot dog.

 

They ended up gathering a few of the others on the way to the kitchens. Keith had been heading to Shiro’s room to check on him too, and Lance and Pidge had emerged from her lab covered in luminous light blue goo that Shiro chose _not_ to ask about. They were both giggling periodically, so it probably wasn’t lethal.

 

Keith ran to him, nearly knocking Shiro to the floor with the force of his hug. Pidge followed as soon as Keith gave her the slightest bit of room. Lance …. He hung back, head bowed, but smiling. So Shiro took the initiative, wrapping him up in a tight embrace, murmuring, “Thanks for getting us both out of there in one piece. Wouldn’t have made it without you.” Then Lance hugged him in return, a few near silent sobs hitching his shoulders.

 

When Lance disentangled himself, Shiro could see no tear tracks, just a small, sweet smile. Pidge grabbed Lance’s arm, dragging him into the kitchen. Keith trailed after them, looking awkward again as Lance avoided even glancing his way. Shiro didn’t want to start _that_ conversation yet, so he instead happily focused on Hunk’s shouted greeting, and the bone-cracking hug that came right after.

 

Allura and Coran were already in the kitchen, consuming Hunk’s cooking with great gusto, welcoming Shiro with laughter and smiles. Coran’s smile was a touch more bittersweet, but so very caring as well. Shiro settled in, far more aware of the fractures and faults within his found family.

 

And far more grateful to them for being exactly who they were.

 

******

 

“C’mon, Keith, this won’t take long,” Shiro said, ignoring Keith’s protests as he snagged his forearm and proceeded to haul him away from his early morning training regimen. Keith had been pretty happy to see Shiro that morning, up until the moment Shiro had steered him in the opposite direction of the training deck, informing him that _no, not today._ Then those dark eyebrows had drawn downward, his mouth frowning intensely.

 

“Why? What’s happening?” He appeared worried.

 

“Nothing life-threatening, I promise,” Shiro informed him, and Keith relaxed, though that frown remained. “Coran wants me to have a look on his horticulture project, and you and me are overdue for a talk.”

 

“We talk _all the time,_ ” Keith complained. “In fact, it feels like that’s all we’re doing lately.”

 

Coran had taken Lance aside some time the night before; Shiro had watched the two of them walk onto the bridge, Lance jabbering away, as if nothing was wrong. Shiro didn’t get to see the aftermath of that talk, hadn’t seen Lance since, but he did manage to track down Coran before they all retreated into their rooms for sleep. Coran had explained that Lance had been unsettling in his silence as Coran spoke … But he'd appeared to absorb what was said, though whether or not he had  _accepted it_ was another thing entirely.

 

So Shiro knew now was the time to speak with Keith about _all_ of this.

 

“Well, here’s another one for the books. Feel free to lodge a complaint with your commanding officer — oh wait, that would technically be me, which would involve even _more_ talking —”

 

“You’re _not_ funny.” Keith huffed, giving up on stopping Shiro from dragging him along the Castle hallways.

 

“I mean, I’m no Lance … and speaking of Lance,” Shiro said, not in the mood to indulge in small talk, pausing as the doors to Coran’s make-shift garden opened … And his planned words got lost on the way to his mouth. “Wow. Okay. How have I never seen this before?”

 

The area was _huge._ Domed with a faux yellow sun glowing down onto a sea of messy green grass. A few saplings had been planted in orderly rows, and there was a patch of tilled dirt, not big enough for crops, but Shiro could see the intention. Another patch with a few straggly flowers that could be turned into a lovely flower grove …

 

“What about Lance?” Keith asked warily after taking in the soon-to-be-garden with wide eyes. “Are you going to ask me to apologize? Because I already did. I know I was way out of line, accusing him of making you feel … I know he was just looking out for me.” Keith’s hands came up, as if to scrub the flush from his cheeks, then he gazed at Shiro with that unrelenting stare of his. “How are you, by the way? Lance, he mentioned stuff, which got me mad, but I know, okay, I know I was wrong. He didn’t cause … whatever you’re going through. Just … all this war and your capture … Shiro —”

 

“I’m learning that I have things to work through, you’re right,” Shiro said calmly, turning away from the green splendour around him to focus on Keith, to hopefully show that he was okay. “It’s gonna be a process, one I might need your help with.”

 

“Absolutely,” Keith said without hesitation.

 

“Right. But first, I need to talk about Lance.”

 

Keith’s head dropped. “He accepted my apology, not sure what else I can do.”

 

“Well, let’s go a little farther back to while I was gone. How did you and Lance deal? When did you two start respecting one another like this?” Shiro didn’t just want to know for the sake of helping Lance out — he was genuinely curious, and somewhat retroactively worried for the Keith of that time.

 

Keith made a face. “I don’t know? I guess … I guess after the Black Lion chose me. I didn’t want it, but Lance, he told me to respect its choice, since he respected it.” He shrugged, embarrassed. “Then I screwed up majorly a few times, and it was Lance that took me to task over it. Helped me figure stuff out.”

 

Shiro had heard this much from Lance already, though Lance hadn’t given himself nearly as much credit as he deserved — a thought that hurt Shiro all over again. “And did you guys ever talk things out, or did you just accept these new roles without much discussion?”

 

“That second one,” Keith admitted. “It was working, so why question it? Though Lance did once … He came to me, that night after we’d found … We _thought_ we found you. Something about more Lion shuffling now that you, well, Not-You was here. I told him not to worry about it.”

 

 _There it was._ “Do you remember what he said?”

 

Keith’s expression scrunched up in confusion. “Maybe? Something about how quickly Allura figured stuff out with Blue. And needing our best soldiers on the front lines. I wasn’t really in the mood for a strategy session so I told him to just focus on our missions, and the rest would take care of itself. He seemed a bit down about the whole six paladins, five Lions thing, but I told him to let Pidge worry about the math.”

 

Shiro didn’t bother to hold back the face-palm. “ _Oh Keith._ ”

 

“What?” Keith said, annoyed and a touch concerned. “What did I miss?”

 

“The entire point of that conversation.” Shiro tried to say it kindly. “Keith, Lance wasn’t coming to you for a strategy session.”

 

“I’m not as dense as you think I am,” Keith growled, tossing his hair from his eyes. “He was having some issues with his place on the team, so I tried to make him feel better. And _then_ , when I suggested that Not-You take the Black Lion on our next mission, I _also_ volunteered to stay behind. How was that a bad thing?”

 

“Well, that’s … better. Right, here’s a nice patch of grass. Sit down, take a load off.” Shiro dropped to the ground, enjoying the slightly ticklish sensation of grass between his flesh-and-blood fingers.

 

Keith sat directly across from him, falling into a cross-legged pose, his hands immediately seeking to tear up the grass. Shiro cleared his throat, shaking his head once, and those hands withdrew into Keith’s lap.

 

“While Lance and I were captured, he tried to sacrifice himself for me,” Shiro began without preamble. “It wasn’t just a noble gesture — he was _sure,_ beyond a doubt, that he wasn’t as valuable to the team as I am. As you are. As _anyone else._ ”

 

There was a long, silent pause as Keith’s eyes went huge. Then he opened his mouth and said, “Bullshit.”

 

“No, not even a little — he rattled off everyone’s name who he considered more important. Only one he didn’t say was Coran, and you know how much Lance adores him. So he probably thought he went without saying.” Shiro’s stare bore into Keith’s. “Lance came to you to hear someone say that he’s needed. That he’s _wanted._ ”

 

“How the hell could I have known … He’s so stupidly confident _all the time!_ ” Keith’s hands went up into the air and then waved about. “He brags about, like, _everything he ever does._ He knows I’m the better pilot, and he _still—_ ”

 

“Yes, he says all those things often. He may even mean half of them,” Shiro conceded. “But when the chips are down, Lance will always gamble with his life over anyone else’s. Might even take the riskier bid because he _doesn’t think he matters._ Do you get what I’m saying?”

 

And he did, he _finally_ did because Keith looked _horrified._ Shiro didn’t want Keith to feel guilty — his assumptions about Lance were based entirely on Lance’s behaviour and assertions. Keith had made a decent call; he had seen that Lance was having a rough time adjusting to the new layout, and that Lance was troubled by uncertainty when Shiro had supposedly returned … But Keith had missed a larger problem, and Shiro needed to not only point this out, but impress upon him the potential consequences of letting the situation continue on unresolved.

 

“He’s a _moron._ ” Keith clenched both hands into fists. “Why would he … How do we fix it?”

 

“Let’s start with not calling him a moron,” Shiro said dryly, joking in part. “But we talk to him. It’s not going to get fixed overnight, but talking is the way to start. Coran’s already had a discussion with him, and you need to be the next one to broach the subject.”

 

Keith inhaled in a long breath. “But I’m … not good at this. What if I say something even worse? What if he takes it the wrong way?”

 

“I have every faith in your bluntness,” Shiro replied, laughing when Keith punched him in the shoulder. “You make sure you get your point across. Have him repeat it back to you, ask him questions — you’ll do whatever it takes, like always.”

 

“I … okay.” Keith rubbed at his face again. “Yeah. I can … Tonight, after dinner, I need time to … think about what to say.”

 

“Good,” Shiro said encouragingly. “You do that. It doesn’t have to be perfect, Keith, it just has to be sincere. Lance has a lot of respect for you, despite the teasing. It was pretty clear to me that he holds you in high regard.”

 

Keith flushed in nearly the same way as Lance — pink across his cheeks. Shiro had to hold back a smile as it finally clicked in his head what those matching blushes could mean. He didn’t say a word, as the more important task at hand was making sure that Keith felt secure enough to do what had to be done.

 

“If you need help, or maybe you want to run what you want to say by me …” Shiro began to suggest, but Keith shook his head, his jaw set, expression determined.

 

“No, I can do this. Lance needs to hear it from the team leader.” Keith squared his shoulders, but made no moves to get up, a faraway gleam to his eyes.

 

Shiro rose to his feet, pausing to mess up Keith’s hair, grinning broadly at the swearing and half-hearted swats he received in retaliation. He left Keith alone in the garden, no further words necessary.

 

The next person he sought out was Coran, who was in one of the archive rooms of the Castle, whistling a jaunty tune as he hauled out a few physical tomes, greeting Shiro with a, “Hello there!” He blew the dust off the books, dropping them onto a table with a solid _thud_. “What brings you to my cleaning frenzy?”

 

“Just wanted to let you know I spoke to Keith. It went pretty well.” Shiro walked over to stand at the base of the ladder Coran was using to reach the highest shelves. Shiro had no idea that this Castle even had literal books — information that wasn’t contained within the computer system.

 

“Ah, these old things were partially transcribed, but some secrets were considered too dangerous to input into digital archives were such information could be corrupted or hacked,” Coran explained without Shiro needing to ask. “A few … wartime tactics and weapon schematics remain in here. I wished to study them. We’re gaining allies and resources, but we may need some … other means to defeat the Galra now that Lotor has proven to be so cunning.”

 

Shiro … didn’t want to know what Coran meant by this. At some point, there would be a debriefing. There would be debates on what tactics were considered acceptable, how far they were willing to go to protect the universe and their families. This family, right here in this Castle. Shiro’s moral compass wavered only in the worst conditions — what he’d done in that arena, what circumstance had forced his hands to do …

 

 _This is the time to rest. Fixable problems only._ The words rang through his head in both Coran and Allura’s voices, with an echo of Matt.

 

“Can you tell me more about how Lance seemed?” Shiro asked, concentrating on not looking down at the books — he wasn’t fluent in Altean, let alone ancient Altean, so he likely wouldn’t have been able to glean anything, but just in case …

 

“I’ve told you all I could think of. You’re right about him, it shames me to say.” Coran sighed heavily, the lines on his face more pronounced. “That boy … he doesn’t understand how he shines. What use there is for a soldier who is as adaptable as he is, not to mention his intrinsic value as a sentient person, with all the vibrancy and one-of-a-kindness that implies.”

 

“Damn it." Shiro sighed. "Keith was pretty confounded by all that — he didn't believe me at first.”

 

“Lance is quite good at putting up a front, but he isn’t shy about admitting when he has troubles either … We simply assumed his troubles weren’t so grave because he is such a cheerful, brazen lad. But no longer,” Coran said firmly. “We’re going to pester and support each other as all good families do. Also, hugs. Hunk has been bearing the brunt of that burden, but everyone needs a hug now and then.”

 

“Good luck roping Keith into one of those — he’s particular about who he hugs,” Shiro said with rueful fondness.

 

“Hm. Well, as his older brother figure, you’ll have to be in charge of him for a time … Though I don’t think he’d reject an embrace from Lance …” Coran raised an eyebrow, his mustache twitching as he attempted to hold back a smirk.

 

Shiro didn’t bother restraining a knowing grin of his own. “Noticed a few things, did you? Because I’ve picked up a couple of interesting little developments myself.”

 

“Oh, seen this coming for a while now, but I’m not one to interfere — these things are best left to grow at their own pace.”

 

Right at that moment, Shiro’s computer buzzed against his thigh. He pulled it from his pocket, glancing at Keith’s name in the Altean alphabet. He flicked his gaze up to Coran, who indicated that he accept the call. Keith’s voice burst from the computer’s small speakers, frantic and annoyed, “Shiro! You need to come to the Blue Lion hanger _right now_.”

 

Lance’s voice was faint in the background, but Shiro could hear him hissing at Keith to _stop, don’t you …_ Then a bit of muffled cussing as Keith probably either covered his mouth or tried to smother him in some other way.

 

Shiro exhaled at length before saying, “I’ll be right there.”

 

“Hm, maybe I was wrong?” Coran frowned. “I thought things had warmed up between them considerably.”

 

“Close friends can still argue, and they haven’t been that close for too long.” Shiro shoved his computer back into his pocket, raking a hand through his hair in exasperation. “I’ll go make sure nothing explodes.”

 

“You’re a brave man, Shiro.” Coran saluted him as he left.

 

In the time it took Shiro to reach the Blue Lion hanger, a minor scuffle had occurred — Lance was splayed out face first on the ground, yelling into the floor as Keith sat on his legs and had one of Lance’s arms twisted behind his back.

 

“Lance, Keith.” Shiro crossed his arms, giving Keith his sternest, most _unimpressed_ stare.

 

Keith grit his teeth, and then exploded with, “It’s not my fault! He’s _not listening!_ ”

 

Shiro did not face-palm again, but it was a near thing. “Right. I thought you were going to take your time thinking about how to have this conversation.”

 

Now Keith turned red with embarrassment. “I was! But then he called me here because he’s … He thinks Coran was taking _pity_ on him, that we sent Coran to _break it to him gently._ ”

 

“Break _what_ to you gently?” Shiro directed at Lance, watching as the pinned young man bit into his lower lip, his eyes not quite meeting Shiro’s.

 

“Just that … you’re trying to get me ready for the fact that you’re coming back, right? Or that Matt might be taking over for me — and it’s _fine,_ it makes total sense —”

 

Keith made a noise of frustration, releasing Lance. He rolled to his feet, his gloved hands dragging down his face. “You are unbelievable.”

 

“What Keith is _trying to say_ is that you’re mistaken,” Shiro said, walking over and keeping himself between Lance and the exit. “Lance, we would _never_ replace you. Not unless you needed a break or were hurt, and even then, only _temporarily._ ”

 

“Shiro, that doesn’t make any sense, not when you have Allura and Matt, and _you,_ and you’re all so much bet—”

 

Keith growled, grabbing one Lance’s gesturing hands by the wrist and pulling him harshly up to a standing position. “You’re _the best shot on the team. You can transform your bayard while the rest of us are still trying to figure it out._ What, exactly, is your malfunction? Is it your ears? Are you just not _hearing_ the words I’m saying? Are they getting lost on the way to your brain?”

 

“I don’t want to be on the team because you _pity me!_ ” Lance shouted, shoving Keith hard enough to send him stumbling back several steps. “I don’t need that from _you,_ and we don’t need that in this war, not if we’re going to win and _save our families!_ ”

 

A sharp growl cut through Lance’s second wind.

 

All of three of them whipped their heads up to Blue, yellow eyes flashing, bending low to crouch down and … glare at Lance? The gaze pressed in on Shiro, even though he knew it wasn’t meant for him. Lance froze, the only sound emerging from him that of a sharply indrawn breath. Keith stared back and forth between Lance and Blue, a smile tugging on his lips, though his eyes were still dark with concern and frustration.

 

Shiro stepped in closer to Lance, speaking softly, “You’re the one Blue chose. When you did the right thing and respected Black’s choice, Red picked _you_ too. Blue let you go because it was _necessary,_ but …”

 

A low rumble from Blue, and Lance reached out, his hand trembling until it rested on Blue’s nose. “Hey beautiful. I miss you.”

 

The rumble rose up again, and Shiro could have _sworn_ it was a purr. Keith’s annoyance lifted, revealing a small, satisfied smile, at last. “You’ve been chosen by _two_ Lions. Like me. I … I’ve been visiting with Red, and Red likes you, a lot. It might be making Blue a little jealous.”

 

Blue released another harsh growl, and Lance laughed, pressing both hands against Blue’s metal hide. “Ah, _querida,_ no, don’t be like that. I’m blue deep down inside, and you know it.” Lance bit his lip. “Allura said Blue was the most accepting of Paladins, so I just figured …”

 

Lance trailed off, brow furrowing in concentration as Blue no doubt communicated with him — his eyes went wide, his mouth falling open. “ _Like the first Blue Paladin? Really? That much?_ ” He seemed so incredulous, but more importantly, he seemed to _finally_ be getting it.

 

“You’re smart and quick on the field, Lance,” Shiro said, putting a hand on the younger man’s shoulder. He didn’t drag him away from his Lion, instead joining in on the support Blue exuded. “You’ve got a wicked way with your bayard, and you’re one of the best shots I’ve ever seen, if not _the_ best. You remind us of Earth, _our home,_ and what we’re fighting to defend beyond the too big, abstract concept of _the universe._ ”

 

“And you remind us that the war isn’t all there is,” Keith added, taking slow steps to stop just short of Lance’s other shoulder. “You keep us distracted from the worst of it, and you flirt and charm your way into getting us allies when Allura’s diplomacy falls short, or when I’m … a little too intense and …”

 

“Freak people the hell out?” Lance supplied, and if his eyes were glittering wetly, Shiro kept that observation to himself.

 

“Yeah, that,” Keith agreed, albeit with a glare. He gentled his expression soon after, raising a gloved hand hesitatingly to rest on Lance’s upper arm. “You’re not just a part of the team, _you’re integral._ I wouldn’t be able to lead without you. I wouldn’t be leading _at all_ if not for you.”

 

“Coran spoke to you because he needed to be sure you knew these things about yourself,” Shiro continued on, squeezing Lance’s shoulder. “Because it’s not out of pity or pragmatism. It’s because we _care about you._ We need you to see yourself the way we see you. You’re a hero, Lance. A Paladin of Voltron, _chosen_ for your special abilities and unique personality.”

 

“So shut up with the _replacing you_ bullshit, because it is never going to happen,” Keith finished off, rather inelegantly, but it got a bark of laughter out of Lance, and a single, happy tear that Lance was quick to wipe away.

 

“All right, I got it. Lancey-Lance is your favourite, I’m all things awesome about existence.” He grinned when Keith rolled his eyes. “No, don’t lie to me, Captain Mullet, I’m your right-hand man, and I can see right through you.”

 

Shiro ruffled both their hair as Keith geared up for a fight. Lance didn’t object to the disheveling of his styled locks — he just leaned into the touch, and smiled shyly back, as though he still couldn’t quite believe everything that had been said. And it was possible he didn’t, not yet, but he was at least open to hearing them out, to accepting Blue’s affection, and Keith’s awkward compliments.

 

“Right, so, I’m going to see if I can catch a ride with Black,” Shiro said, suddenly feeling that now was a good time to try and reconnect with his Lion — not for battle or training, but just because flying Black was like nothing else in the universe. He felt _good,_ so good that he was sure Black would recognize it. “Maybe you two should —”

 

“Dude, you _gotta_ check out this new move Red and me came up with!” Lance said out of nowhere, excitedly grabbing onto Keith’s arm with two hands. “It’s so freaking badass, and Red totally wants to try it with you some …. No, wait, let’s _both_ go into Red, it’ll be so great — Blue, I love you, I’ll be back for some serious bonding time, don’t get me wrong —”

 

Blue let out something of a snort, and withdrew back into a standing position, and even Shiro could feel the fondness coming off the Lion. He didn’t say a word as Keith spluttered at Lance’s enthusiasm, as Lance dragged him towards the Red Lion's hanger, still rambling about his _freaking awesome stunts_. Lance hadn’t really spoken much about his bond with Red before this, maybe too insecure to sink into it fully, unwilling to see the bond for what it was — genuine and strong.

 

They disappeared down the hall that connected the hangers, and Shiro was left standing there, arms crossed, grinning like a fool to himself. He turned on his heel, heading towards the Black Lion. As he did so, he buzzed Coran. The older man answered in one tick. “Yes, how did it go?”

 

“Better than I hoped,” Shiro answered cheerfully. “Now we just have to get Hunk, Allura, and Pidge in on the Lance Appreciation Squad.”

 

“Won’t take much to persuade Hunk, and I know this because I’ve already spoken to him,” Coran said smugly. “We’ll be having Lance’s favourite dinner tonight.”

 

Shiro laughed. “You’re too good, Coran. I can’t keep up with you.”

 

“You’ll get there, my boy. Now, you go do something fun! I can speak with Pidge and Allura while you’re gone.”

 

“Gone?” Shiro asked, raising an eyebrow. “How did you know …”

 

“Well, not fair to give away all my secrets! You’ll learn! Have a nice flight!” Coran hung up to the sound of Shiro chuckling.

 

He reached the Black Lion hanger, his Lion greeting him with a soft purr, ready for him to climb in.

 

“Hey buddy,” Shiro greeted, trailing his hand along the walls as he walked to his pilot seat. “I’ve missed this.”

 

A warm glow within, a thrum of agreement echoing around him. Shiro sighed. “Not quite ready to come back, I know. You’re right. But ready enough to have some fun?” Black roared happily. “Maybe show up Red a little?” A more competitive, excited buzz as Shiro settled in, his hands conforming to his flight controls as if he’d never left. “Yeah, let’s do this.”

 

The blast from the thrusters, they way he felt both in control of Black and _part_ of the Lion at the same time — nothing would ever or could ever feel as _freeing_ as piloting the Black Lion. Lightness along his limbs, as if the artificial gravity wasn’t working, and Shiro loved the sharp drop in his stomach when he plunged into a dive towards the planet below. He rose up, skipping along the atmosphere, laughing when Black released the wings _because, why not?_

Red was a glowing streak in the blackness of space, and Shiro chased it. He tapped into the comms, yelling, “ _Last one to the moon has to wash the dishes by hand!_ ” And then took off to the delightful sound of Lance’s indignant squawks of, “ _Hey, cheater!_ ” and Keith’s vehement cursing.

 

Shiro won the race, but they kept playing amongst the stars, asteroids, moons, and planets, Lance and Keith switching back and forth in Red’s pilot seat. It wasn’t until Allura summoned them in for dinner, amused at their antics, that they slowed down. They split up before their meal, heading for the showers and a quick change of clothes.

 

Hunk may or may not have cornered Lance before they ate, since both boys entered the dining hall with red-rimmed eyes and broad smiles. Pidge hugged Lance around the waist, hard enough to send Lance gasping for breath, and Allura kissed his cheek while Pidge held him prisoner. Lance didn’t ask what the occasion was, he just accepted the affection in praise with a somewhat embarrassed glow about him. Matt insisted on Lance giving him lessons on shooting, since there was no one better on board, while Hunk retreated into the kitchen to deliver pizza, croquetas stuffed with meat and Hunk's cheese substitute, and what definitely looked and _smelled_ like garlic knots.

 

Lance shouted his glee, inviting everyone to dive in before he did, since he would, _“Definitely eat this all by myself, guys, seriously, take your fill so I can eat everything else._ ”

 

Shiro waited for everyone to fill their plates before he launched into the story of how he defeated Lance _and_ Keith in their impromptu race, which got Keith arguing about cheating between huge bites of food, and Lance throwing a garlic knot at Shiro’s head, though he immediately lunged after it in regret, pleading for _no food fights, this is too good to waste on war, no matter how justified!_

This was better. This wasn’t fixed, not yet, not when Lance looked too incredulous, a certain shadow behind his eyes not unlike the one Shiro faced every day in the mirror; a shadow that whispered _this won’t last, it never lasts, happiness invites disaster._ But it was a pretty decent start to _getting better,_ and he wouldn’t let himself bring darkness over this shining light, here, at their dinner table.

 

He ate, he joked, he pushed any and all fears and doubts away for later, so he could just bask in his family again, this time feeling as though everything might actually be okay, including himself — not just because he needed to be … but because he _wanted to be._

 

******

 _Coda: Three Months Later_  

******

 

“You and Coran were marvellous,” Allura gushed, her eyes all but glowing. “Really, what a stunning display.”

 

“He’s a very skilled swordsman,” Shiro said with a broad grin. “That was a fun duel. I’m glad it helped cement the alliance.”

 

“Oh, it also garnered both of you several proposals for marriage.” She grinned. “I can forward them to your computer, if you’re interested.”

 

“Ah … no, thank you.” Shiro flushed as Allura laughed at him, but he was chuckling soon enough, especially as Lance slid onto the dance floor with a little alien girl who seemed _smitten_ with him.

 

Allura and Shiro watched with matching smiles as Lance twirled her around, her sky blue hands clutching his suit’s sleeves tightly. The older aliens applauded and cheered, and Lance heaved her up onto his shoulders to accept the praise. He bowed deeply, sending her giggling and clutching at his hair to stay in place — hair that Lance had spent _hours_ fixing up.

 

He didn’t seem to care at all as he straightened, passing the child to her father, waving good-bye jauntily as he backed away. An older Melyorian woman approached Lance, tapping his shoulder and asking for a dance. She seemed rather matronly, but Lance treated her with as much enthusiasm as he had the little girl, his smile never fading. The woman blushed a darker blue as he bantered with her.

 

Hunk was sitting at one end of a long table with several members of the Melyoria engineering corps, and Pidge held court at the other end. The Melyorians near the middle of the table seemed to be torn as to which conversation to pay attention to — this was resolved when Hunk and Pidge got into a fierce debate about the practical applications of one of Pidge’s theories, Matt running over from the buffet to keep his sister from launching a dinner roll at Hunk’s face.

 

“We’re meant to end wars, not start them,” Matt reprimanded Pidge, though his grin made his scolding completely ineffective.

 

Keith had found himself two admirers by the desert table — a pair of cadets from the Melyoria Military Academy. They were gesturing as though holding swords; Keith reached over to correct their stances, completely oblivious to the way they stammered in thanks. They peppered him with further questions, which he answered with a faint smile and a few gestures of his own.

 

Coran sidled over to Shiro and Allura, tugging on his waistcoat and tilting his head towards an empty alcove. “There’s a gorgeous view waiting for us around the corner there — I’ve told Keith to meet us in about ten doboshes. Pass on the message, yes?”

 

Allura nodded. “I could use a break, and I’m sure they others could as well.” She smiled at a passing dignitary and then hiked up her skirts. “I’ll head over to Hunk and Pidge. Shiro, you'll get Lance?”

 

“Sure thing.” Shiro watched as Lance wrapped up his dance with the older Melyorian woman. Shiro smoothly cut in before someone else could steal Lance away.

 

Lance gave a relieved sigh as Shiro steered him towards the elaborate water fountain, passing him a cold glass of water with sparkling green star-shaped ice. “Thanks, man. This has been fun, but I’m starting to wind down.”

 

“Take a few minutes to hydrate yourself, and then meet us out by that tapestry in the northwest corner. Coran says he’s found us a quiet spot to take a break.”

 

“Roger that,” Lance said gratefully. His tired smile brightened as his eyes locked onto something over Shiro’s shoulder.

 

Shiro turned his head to see Keith holding what looked like a very long breadstick. Three more military cadets had joined in on the discussion as Keith jabbed slowly, speaking with a very solemn countenance while demonstrating a few more sword techniques. With a breadstick.

 

Lance let loose a giggle, whipping out his computer to take several pictures. “Ah, this is going in the album for sure. Look at their faces — Keith is like their Yoda.”

 

“The caption under this picture has to be ‘Dough or dough not, there is no rye.’” Shiro could not keep a straight face as he spoke, especially when Lance cracked up, managing to groan at the horrible puns while also snorting loudly.

 

Keith glanced over at them, his eyes narrowing suspiciously, though that expression quickly softened as he gazed with fondness at Lance — Lance, who had his head thrown back as he laughed, missing Keith’s clear and obvious affection. Once Lance had calmed, his eyes were drawn back to Keith, who had now resumed his impromptu lesson, incorporating a dull butter knife. Lance’s broad grin quieted into a sweet smile of his own as he watched Keith with his young apprentices.

 

“Drink your water, Lance,” Shiro said, amused, as Lance’s glass tipped further and further, nearly spilling onto the floor.

 

“Huh?” Lance lifted the cup automatically, blinking at it in confusion. “Right. Dude, I’m more out of if than I thought. Gonna chug a few of these before I head out there.”

 

Shiro refrained from commenting on what had Lance so _out of it,_ and instead grinned to himself as he made a swift and hopefully subtle escape to Coran’s meeting spot.

 

The alcove, partially concealed by a gaudy tapestry, had a set of double doors that let out onto a moderately sized curved balcony. Shiro stepped through, the first to arrive, and stared in breathless wonder up at this view Coran had so correctly called _gorgeous._

 

This palace was perched on a small mountain, surrounded by woods, and Shiro could see, even with no artificial light, out to the faintly glimmering cities far off in the distance. A near silent breeze cooled the sweat from the stuffy ballroom, and he inhaled deeply of the fresh, clean air, the kind you could only get planet-side.

 

Shiro leaned back against the wall, basking in the quiet, and he was no less relaxed when the others joined him — they arrived, one by one, and within a couple of minutes, they all stood in the same kind of awed silence, gazes lifted heavenwards.

 

With no city lights intruding, the two brilliant moons and a battalion of stars cast a silvery glow upon the forest.

 

It was bright enough to see the smiles on everyone’s faces. Shiro hung back, soaking in the soft evening winds, the sounds of merriment in the ballroom behind him, the serenity of his family before him.

 

Hunk sighed, resting an arm playfully on Pidge’s head. She ducked, letting him off with a sharp hip nudge and a teasing grin, resting her arms on the stone railing, staring up reverently. Matt joined her, and Pidge’s head just brushed his shoulder. He wrapped an arm around her in turn. Allura stood at Hunk’s other side, and Hunk asked her quietly about the constellations. Allura happily named them, telling wild tales that Coran joined in on, rhapsodizing about old gods who lived on ships made of glass that reflected the lights of creation down upon Altea — the legends that gave birth to their culture, to their desire to explore the boundaries of the universe.

 

Just a few feet away from Coran, Lance and Keith stood side-by-side — and Lance threw an arm around Keith’s shoulders, muttering something into his ear that had Keith shaking with suppressed mirth. Shiro grinned delightedly when they both smiled at one another, and then looked away at the  _exact_ same moment, twin blushes on their cheeks, soft gazes pointedly directed at the sky.

 

Until Keith glanced over Lance’s shoulder to roll his eyes at Shiro. “Stop lurking back there — you gotta see this from closer up. C’mon, Shiro.”

 

Shiro raised his hands in surrender, walking to stand between Coran and Lance. Allura pointed at another constellation, saying, “That one is the oldest and most well-known warrior of myth — _Volatranus, the Sun-Born Sword._ It was said that her blade had been crafted from the heart of a generous dying sun, and given blue flame from a young star eager to prove her worth. I think … I think if we Alteans still believed in the old gods, we would think _Voltron_ is somehow connected to her.”

 

“Maybe that’s where your dad got the inspiration to name _Voltron_?” Matt suggested.

 

“Or maybe the Lions … I mean, they’re made of a special, nearly magical comet, right?” Hunk said dreamily. “Maybe the old gods were giving you another weapon born of a star.”

 

“I kinda like the sound of that,” Pidge said, shoving her glasses further up her nose. “Most legends are based in some kind of real historical event … Maybe we’ll get a constellation and myth attached to us one day.”

 

“Voltron did become legendary in a relatively short time during Alfor’s reign.” Coran stroked his beard. “And your images are being carved into stone on many worlds.”

 

“So we’re building on a legend that already existed. Hey, Allura, pick out a few stars for us — we’ll start spreading the word about the constellation Voltron on our next stop,” Lance said excitedly.

 

Keith laughed, pressing in closer to Lance’s side. “Dude, do you think Hercules picked his constellation out? Or Orion?”

 

“Maybe? Who knows, really?” Lance winked at Keith. “I figure as legendary heroes, we totally get to pick our stars,  _and_ we can actually stake a claim, put up a little satellite that says _Voltron Was Here_ or something like —”

 

“That one!” Allura said suddenly, pointing. “Near the top of Volatranus, there’s a faint little light — and you can see a ring of six more curving upwards —”

 

“Right!” Hunk cheered. “Ah, so cool, it kinda looks like the hilt of a sword!”

 

“Really? Looks like my bayard to me,” Pidge said smugly. “I’m fine with this choice.”

 

“Nah, it's like the Voltron symbol on our armour!” Keith exclaimed, unexpectedly excited. “I see it!”

 

“I’ll update our star charts when we get back to the Castle.” Allura sounded content. “For both us and the first Paladins — a constellation, built upon the foundation of the legends that came before.”

 

“An excellent choice, Princess.” Coran slid an arm around Allura’s back, pulling her into a half-hug. “On behalf of your father, I approve whole-heartedly.”

 

“Maybe that can be our rest spot,” Shiro said softly. “Near or around those stars, we'll go when we need a break from battle, all of us.”

 

“Maybe one of those stars has a planet with a beach on it.” Lance gave a wistful sigh.

 

“Anything but a desert,” Keith said, and maybe Shiro imagined it, but Keith seemed to reach for the hand Lance had on Keith’s shoulder … Then Keith appeared to change his mind part way there, dropping his own hand back down to the railing of the balcony, his fingers tapping nervously.

 

Discussion broke out over what kind of planet they could use as a permanent vacation spot. Shiro didn’t contribute, just listened with a smile, refusing to take sides in the light-hearted argument. Any place with his team would be home to him — a place to breathe, and retreat, and heal. Maybe one day their Earth families could see it too.

 

But for now, this family was his to love and protect and support, and he was learning to let them love, protect, and support him in return. This war, however long it took to win (and they would win), wouldn’t defeat him in the ways that mattered. Shiro would be whole by the end, and he would make damn sure so were each and every one of the people standing on this balcony next to him — these wonderful beings arguing about the merits of a beach front property and challenging each other to duels to determine where they would end up next.

 

 

****** 

“ _We are at rest five miles behind the front. Yesterday we were relieved, and now our bellies are full of beef and haricot beans. We are satisfied and at peace.”_

 _—_ Erich Maria Remarque _, All Quiet on the Western Front_

******

 

**Author's Note:**

> This was so self-indulgent, and it got way too fluffy towards the end — I just wanted to _fix them_. Shiro's POV was really tough to get down, and like most things to do with characterization, I'm still not feeling like I got it quite right. I think part of that was because my need for fluff was fighting against the urge to sink deeper into the dark thoughts and complexities of Shiro (and Lance's) problems? Wow, okay, gonna stop rambling now. It felt as done as I could make it, so I decided to stop struggling and just let it be :)
> 
>  **Edit Sept. 27 2017:** I totally forgot to mention that the fabulous **Reader115** took a look at one of the early drafts of this when I was really doubting myself and gave me the much needed encouragement to keep going, as well as other advice that I took — much obliged, my dear!
> 
> If you made it down this far, thanks for being willing to read my silliness :) *hugs* If you want more silliness, feel free to come over to my [Tumblr](http://thisgirlhastales.tumblr.com/).


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